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cloveroctobers · 8 months

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FEBRUARY FLUFF — CARMY BERZATTO.

A/N: so carmy won this time around!!! Thanks to all those that voted and ultimately made this decision for me lol. Hope you guys enjoy this and have a safe, healthy, and happy love season 🩷 + yes this is a mixture of fluff and angst...i mean come on! I wouldn't be me if i didn't include that in here somewhere!

PROMPTS ARE FROM HERE + HERE & I’m using: 1. “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.” “What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” + always giving the other the first bite of their food < or the last.

WARNINGS/SN: I wrote with a black or brown reader in mind although reader isn't physically described + they’re given a name only when mentioned, language is a thing here duh!, this is LENGTHY, lots of timelines: reader + nat became friendly before season 1 during the summer prior to 7 fishes which is estimated to be five years before season 2, reader knows of carmy due to past work, I feel like she can be just a few year(s) older than carmy but younger than nat—there’s a age gap for the Berzatto’s anyways, sexual relations are mentioned, this piece takes place months after the grand opening, & finally there’s a possible chance for a poly relationship or maybe just multiple crushes going on? Take that how you will.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

it was a Sunday.

The kind of Sunday you woke up embarrassed about but knew you had to swallow your pride and just send out that text. You knew you wouldn’t be judged regardless reaching out to Fak because he’s built to deal with things like this and never made you feel like shit about anything.

You usually had to squeeze it out of him to get him to lay out any cons about a situation but appreciated most times when he didn’t. Your minds been going haywire with a recent assignment as a food journalist and it really slipped your mind, although you were usually a quick thinker, you’ve been stressed over this recent restaurant. Thankfully it clicked for you after throwing a tantrum to simply reach out to Fak to come help you out.

The stupid lever in your bathroom decided to stop flushing on you and of course you panicked. Who wouldn’t panic in a situation like that? You no longer had a roommate and strongly debated if you even wanted to search for another; after the shady actions of the previous one, so you really didn’t have to worry about them giving you shit either. (Let’s see if your rent feels the same next month!)

It was just you in the end and perhaps you were learning to be okay with that.

Yet that didn’t stop you from FaceTiming Sydney about it. “Hey Siddy, how’s your day going?”

“Pretty good, yours?” She politely asked as she moved down the hallway of her shared apartment to prop her phone on the pedestal sink, moving around her functioning bathroom to grab some oil to grease her scalp.

Smacking your lips you glare, “it fucking sucks.”

“Oh?” Sydney questioned, appearing back in frame, “what happened? Did someone egg and scratch up your car again after a review you gave them? Noo wait, don’t tell me there’s a bullet hole?!”

That was light work compared to New York (it really wasn’t a competition of which state had its worst moments but your home state left you kinda triggered, not gonna lie!) where you were just starting off and those that were in tune with the culinary world didn’t take your words with a grain of salt. Most nights you still woke up gasping for air, reaching for your throat due to some trauma of a break in from a well-known nepo-baby chef. Don’t get that twisted, your mom didn’t raise no punk but that didn’t mean those events didn’t mess with your mental and you acknowledged that every time you had a nightmare. They only served three years and five months compared to the original five year sentence.

Ah the system…got to love how that works out for the privileged!

You shrugged, “no…the threats have been pretty tame lately so I can give myself a pat on the back for that. However! I still am in a crisis.”

Sydney begins to move her braids around to expose her scalp, “Elaborate for me.”

“My toilet won’t flush!” You whine, laying flat on your messy bed. You tended to not make your bed on Saturdays and didn’t get around to making it today—although it was after 3pm.

Sydney asks, “Like the waste won’t go down…?”

“Exactly!” You confirm throwing your arm over your eyes dramatically, “The lever thing is moving like my old dislocated shoulder.”

Sydney gags, “don’t fucking remind me of that day. That was spooky to witness but I am glad you healed from that.”

“Thanks girl, means a lot, truly.”

Sydney gives a small smile, “don’t mention it…have you considered YouTubing it? That’s what I do when I don’t want to ask anyone for help and figure it out by myself.”

You hummed knowing this was true. In a sense you could be like that too, especially when it came to the working field, since writers can tend to be some nasty bitches and always in rivalry with each other. You made a name for yourself in Chicago as well, coming from New York where you worked just as hard-maybe even harder than the rest to mean and write exactly how you felt about cuisine, regardless if anyone agreed or not. It wasn’t about if people liked you, the relationship with food would always be more significant and hold value in your life, just like the rest of these chef’s you encountered and you got that, people were allowed to be sensitive about their work. You’ve come toe to toe with many chef’s around the world who didn’t like your take on their craft but that didn’t mean you didn’t understand them. They hardly took the time to really dive into your ratings and automatically took it as you shit talking or not having any idea what you were saying since you “weren’t really a chef,” but you knew your worth most days.

Yes you could be straight forward but that didn’t mean you lacked compassion like some chef’s liked to think according to your reviews. You often wrote in a way that was puzzling to some, almost philosophical or riddle like with your own twist. Some just didn’t get it and that was okay but you wouldn’t back down from any confrontation. The second they didn’t want to really listen, that’s when you removed yourself from the escalating problem. It didn’t have to get violent like some wanted to inflict.

“Why didn’t I think of that?!” You exasperated, slapping the palm of your hand to your forehead.

Sydney snorted, “maybe because you’re under a lot of pressure lately and the most simplest of things don’t come as easily as they should.”

“You would think I have high blood pressure with the way these past two weeks have been.”

Sydney says, “give it time.”

“Gee, thanks! That’s exactly the kind of shit I want to hear from you.” You roll your eyes at the blurt of words that commonly escaped the braided girl’s mouth.

Sydney breathes out a laugh, “I’m just joking!”

“Yeah, yeah! Maybe I should text fak back and tell him not to come by!”

“You asked fak instead of the apartment manager?” Sydney is in amazement.

“Fuck that noise, he’s so full of shit that he should see a doctor about it. He’ll show up to analyze the problem, then acts like he’s going to fit you into the schedule and then when you catch him in the lobby he pretends that he has amnesia.” You commented with a scowl.

You get ready to minimize the call to text fak but some obnoxious knocks at the door made you pop up from your bed. “That was fast!”

Hopping up from the bed and padding out of the last bedroom in the apartment, you made the journey through the foyer to the awaiting black front door. Peeking through the peephole you spot Fak grinning widely up into it, almost making you jump back.

“He’s made it Siddy! I’ll call you back!”

“K. Good luck!” Sydney calls out before you end the call to pull the door wide open.

“Neil!” You scream, quickly latching onto his tatted wrist ready to yank him in until you notice someone else is with him, “…why is he here?” You point.

Fak quickly glances over at a brimmed Carmy who raised a brow at him in a silent told you so manner, “I mean we were having a boy’s day when you called and I didn’t want my buddy to be left out. Plus, it’s always great to have some assistance.”

“…i find it hard to believe that Carmen wants to fix my toilet.” You cross your arms, poking out your hip as you stare at him.

Carmen shrugs his shoulders, “I wanted to wait in the car if it makes you feel any better.”

“Hmm…it doesn’t.”

Carmy rolls his eyes, pinching at the bridge of his nose briefly in agitation, “you know what, fak you’ve got this right? I know you do so—

“Nope!” Fak quickly interrupts, “this maybe a two person job so aspie if you just let us do what we came to do—

Shooting an arm out to block the doorway you peer into Fak’s dark teal eyes to show you mean business, “didn’t I say I dislike that nickname, Neil?”

He nods.

“Also i find it offensive that you brought an uninvited guest to my place.”

“Just be glad it wasn’t Richie because that was also a possibility before he ran off to pick up the kid.” Carmy snaps making you roll your eyes.

If Richie was here you been would have slammed the door in both Fak and his face. Sure you had some sort of tension with Carmy and beef with .......his cousin but at least Carmy only gave it back to you when he had the energy to—meaning if he was already on one. The issue was simple, you wrote a not so nice review once before when the eldest berzatto, Michael was alive and running the joint. Richie couldn’t forget that and actually kept the clipping, yes the clipping of the review way back when. He had the receipts to show Carmy and Carmy actually brushed it off then, not seeming to really care or doubt some of the words that were said.

He came to revamp the place because Mikey left it for him, to fix the mess his big brother left behind, to create what they’ve always dreamed of. Sure he got shit for it in the beginning and part of him felt like maybe that was your case too? He could relate to you on that, yet the weight was slightly different on his part and he even spoke with you not long after he found those tomato cans.

That gave him a certain push he couldn’t really explain. He may have done a brief dive on you, wondering why you felt acquainted to him—completely forgetting about seeing you once around Noma—choosing to start with reading previous reviews by you on other restaurants here in Chicago and a few interviews you’ve done over the world. You weren’t just some nobody, you held your titles well and it reflected in your work.

You weren’t clueless.

He just didn’t really know what he was dealing with until a short time ago.

What he didn’t expect was for you to show up again on opening night with a certain head chef, also from New York. That made carmy more anxious than anything, seeing you sitting beside that four eyed fuck ready to set off a tornado in the heart of the bear. Was that your motive all along? With carmy attempting to build a bridge, not for you to kiss his ass with praise but there was a odd need to have a simple conversation with you. It was weird but it seemed like Sydney, Fak, and Nat liked you?

The jury was still out with the rest—except Richie but you were a mystery to Carmy. However carmy wasn’t the best at putting a read on people or their emotions in the first place, he was good at fucking that up unless you’re screaming it into his face. That’s just how he operated.

“You two can come in—only because I don’t have the patience with the manager here and Neil’s the best I’m gonna get.” You state while fak slaps a hand on his chest.

“That was really sweet, Aspen.” Fak cooed ready to pull you into a bone crushing hug but you hold up a finger.

“Save the hugs until after you fix my problem.”

“You got it boss,” Fak salutes before diving under your arm to travel through your apartment, ooo-ing and ah-ing before finding the bathroom around the corner from the living room.

Sighing you drop your arm and wave carmy through, who keeps his view straight while traveling through the hallway. You call out to him, “you can have a seat on the couch.”

“What? Did you drop a load or something and is that the real reason why you don’t want me to help Fak?” Carmy comes right out with it, nose twitching in amusement after whipping around to face you in the center of the living room.

See…only when he’s frustrated or overly focused will he just let it out. Some may look at this as Carmy attempting to make a joke but you took that somewhat personally. The only thing you were thinking after he said this was: What an ego on this one huh?

You stop on your heels and tilt your head to the side, “are you telling me that you think women or fem pronoun users don’t take shits? Do you know what it feels like to have period shits?”

Carmy blinks at you and shouts with his hands out, “I...don't even know what the fuck you're getting at? I wasn't even trying to be sexist to you just then! I asked you a honest question—

“About you being in my business,” you pointed out, “contrary to your beliefs I have a heart and decided to be nice to you and let you stay in my place to keep warm. You’re welcome!”

“Oh bullshit, don’t act like you’re doin’ me any favors.” Carmy scowls, “you don’t even want me here.”

You shrug, “yet you’re here in my apartment, yelling.”

Carmy exhaled while you smirked at him sweetly before turning to lean against the wall that leads to the bathroom.

“Everything okay in there, Neil?”

“Oh yeah!” He says, “I think I figured out the problem. Easy peasy!”

“Great!” You exclaim, pulling your phone out from your sweats to read a very important email.

The weight of stress seemed to lift a good chunk as you quickly responded to a email that you’ve been waiting for. You’ve been invited out (squeezed in) to a taste test at this restaurant for this evening that you’ve been trying to get into for a month before you brought it up to your employer. The deadline was approaching for the end of this week to have a review ready and they just responded to you five days before that deadline! Reading over it twice, the squeal in you slipped through your smile until you read the exceptions.

If you were to go over the amount of food purchased, which you would put on the company card anyways, you can get a discount if you brought a plus one and some reimbursement if the review was satisfactory to the owners—which the last part wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

You usually didn’t bring a plus one to any of the places you did reviews for, you got comfortable doing outings all on your own but this was different. Sure you were somewhat known in the culinary world but that didn’t mean you were a millionaire and this restaurant was apparently upscale. There was a waiting list regardless of your status—even for the celebrities that went there so this was a big deal and they gave you a short notice. Usually Sundays were known for a reset for the week but what better way to start it?

You don’t go forward with reaching out to anybody else that you work with. This was your battle and you were aware that two of your other co-workers also reached out to this restaurant. You just hoped you were the only one they picked and wouldn’t miss out on the great opportunity just because you weren’t sure about your guest.

A few hours before show time and you had to find somebody to attend with you. Your best friend was away in Cabo for a honeymoon, the other (who recently planned on moving to ATL) was dealing with the flu and had their no good ex boyfriend taking care of them, Sydney was suddenly MIA, and you even considered inviting Natalie Berzatto to piss carmy off just a bit.

“Hey, Nat!” You greet into the phone as you walk into the kitchen, witnessing Carmy perk up from the couch.

It’s small talk at first: you asking about how her day is going as a mom to be, if she’s going to be at the bear tomorrow, did she watch the Emmy’s the other night, tell her husband you said hello, and then finally if she had plans for tonight.

“…are you asking me to hang out?”

“We had fun at that club way back when no?”

“Yeah! But that was how long ago?”

You knew it’s been awhile. You were always friendly with Natalie, meeting her first—well second out of the siblings down at the small mart one summer you helped out at that your great-uncle owned. She was huffing about something her boyfriend at the time, Pete forgot to bring her and some groceries she was picking up for her mom. You were cool enough to become Facebook friends, exchange numbers, go out for coffee and go to the club together. This wasn’t unusual to call each other randomly but you knew she commonly got shit from Michael and Richard about her talking and hanging out with you.

The thing about Natalie Berzatto is that she always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. Yes she saw your review yet she kinda laughed about it initially but it was all fuck you’s from the other two loud mouth’s. Of course she was going to listen to her brother but she still had a mind of her own. she didn’t care to listen to Richie go off but she understood how Michael felt, although she was the only other Berzatto that heard you out.

Except you didn’t owe anybody an explanation even if some felt you were more cutthroat in your younger years.

“...Before you and Pete even thought about marriage?”

You were younger than them but you imagined how it would always work out for Nat and Pete, which included growing old together.

“Wow! Yeah that sounds right.”

“So…?”

“Can’t do it.”

“You didn’t even hear all the details!”

“I know, I know and it sounds like it’ll be a real fucking blast but if this kid wasn’t sitting on my sciatic nerve constantly and if my feet weren’t the size of two honeydews…I totally would! But I’ll have to decline this time around—so please don’t hate me!”

“I could never!”

“You know you could always ask carmy-

“Why on earth would I do that?” Your reply was instant.

Natalie sighed over the phone, “aspen…the potential of friendship and love is a beautiful thing.”

You scrunched up your face at the phone before placing it back to your ear.

“Do you want me to hang up on you?”

“I’d call you a rude bitch if you did but then get over it.”

“I can live with that because I know it’s real love between you and I.”

“…whatever that means.”

“Right.”

You both laugh, knowing just how weird the subject of love can be. Although you didn’t talk all the time it was always okay for one of the other to drop a venting text or call each other’s way and know the other would get around to responding. The both of you may not be the best of friends but you did consider each other friends regardless. There were conversations between the both of you that no one knew about and would be a constant reminder of what kind of friends the both of you would remain.

Natalie wished things could have been resolved between you and Michael but she reassured that the dislike wasn’t as deep as it seemed. There was no secret that you felt awful about how his life ended and being there for nat during that time also meant a lot. She told you that one of the last conversations she had with Michael was about you and it felt as if he was learning to let go of your review, slowly taking in Nat’s words of you not having a cruel bone in your body especially with all that you’ve done for her.

Anybody that showed his sister true friendship couldn’t be complete garbage. As much as he tolerated Pete, Michael was always aware that he was good enough for his sister. They were all cut from different cloths and the Berzatto’s were just from the same but opposite corner’s.

Natalie telling you this was not to erase any worries you had since that is always brought to the surface when someone you’ve been face to face with before decides to end it all. It was to show you that nobody ever truly knows what anyone is thinking whether there is love there or not.

You can feel Natalie smiling through the phone, “Think about it…all that tension could be smoothed out if you extend the olive branch…now it’s your turn.”

“It’s not my fault he switched up on me after your opening night.” You didn’t lower your voice or make it louder but you were definitely staring at carmy now who was side eyeing you, looking like phineas from phineas and ferb.

“That’s something you need to talk to him about, don’t you think?” Her tone was always so gentle that it made you sick sometimes because she could be right.

“I’m not here to do think pieces.”

“…aren’t you a writer?”

“Have a good night, nat.”

“Ta-Ta!” Natalie sing-songs, “be sure to send me the deets later because carmy never tells me anything! Bye! Chat later!”

Hanging up the phone, you slide it onto the counter and tap your nails against the island. To the right of you, you pick up on some clinking in the bathroom—which sounds somewhat normal and zone in on carmy who’s also holding onto his phone but staring at the blank tv in thought.

“Hey, Carmen.” You call his name.

His bright blues turn to you as if he hasn’t been eavesdropping on your conversation here and there between his texts with Marcus.

“You. Me. The Saffron Simmer. 7pm.”

The air is frigid as the both of you hunch your shoulders shoving through Chicago’s winter. Shockingly the streets are filled with cars tonight so you had to park on the next street over before walking up and around to The Saffron Simmer. Carmy offered to drive, which was a debate—no shock there—since there was no way he was leaving the bear stock van behind for no license having fak to play around in.

Fak definitely found that offensive and said he didn’t mind hanging out at your place, being done with your toilet but with the look you sent him he said he’s find an Uber or fak2 can pick him up. It’s not like you didn’t trust fak in your place…it’s just that the possibilities of what he can get into are endless.

You also didn’t want to ride in the bear’s van not because of shallow reasons, you just wanted to annoy carmy just a bit more for fun. Walking mostly everywhere was the way to go growing up in New York and Carmy working there so doing so here in Chicago wasnt foreign either. However with the type of cold here in this city is enough to give the bravest of hearts hypothermia. So obviously driving was the best option, it’s just the petty back and forth between you two of who will drive had to be spewed.

Eventually you gave in and sat in the passenger side of the van, being on DJ duty for the twenty-five minute drive—something carmy didn’t care to argue over. The both of you made it on time, throwing the door back for carmy to catch then bouncing on your toes while he blew into his gloveless hands waiting on the greeter to find your reservation.

The pictures didn’t do The saffron simmer any justice. There was so much to look at with its modernized speakeasy décor and the high ceilings did a superb job of making the both of you feel small in the spacious space. Thankfully the dress code was business casual so you didn’t have to go all out but you still put in the effort of looking your best in simple attire. You’re shrugging out of your scarf, earmuffs, and puffer coat while Carmy is already seated; with only the removal of his cap across from you in a chair.

He’s watching you as you place everything neatly to the right of you before you're taking a seat in the leather oversized chair, then digging through your tote to pull out your notepad, Sony camera, phone, and bolt pen. You quickly scribble something on the first line and circle it before dropping your pen.

Rolling the sleeves of your long sleeves back underneath your blazer, you roll your shoulders with a close of your eyes before opening them with a look of determination.

“Wow, that was something.” Carmy tells you, making you set your eyes back on him, forgetting just that quick that he was your plus one.

Clasping your hands together you quirk up a brow, “What?”

“Watching you prep.”

You dip your head, “should have seen me before I got dressed…much worse.”

A smirk appears on the corner of Carmy’s lips, “oh yeah?”

“Well yes, I can contain myself in public, Carmen. Your home is supposed to be your safe space so that’s the best place to go a little crazy sometimes.” You inform, yet still not giving too much away.

“Why are you in your head about this place anyway?” Carmy peers around the slightly filled dining area before meeting your eyes once more.

You lift your shoulders, “have you seen the way they market this place? Giving not too much away although it’s top ten restaurants here and I can either contribute to its success or its downfall. They picked me for a reason so my review matters at the end of this year.”

“But you uh-get a thrill out of this shit don’t you? It’s what you signed up for, right?” Carmy is actually relaxed against the chair across from you.

Which is a sight to see.

You state, “it’s part of the job, if that’s what you mean.”

Carmy blinks and seems to get it, “and so you stay.”

“So I stay.” You echo while holding his stare, which is broken by a piece of the stone table lifting and showcasing the menu illuminated by sepia lighting in the dark of the restaurant.

Carmy’s bright eyes are wide as he stares at the menu that appears right in front of your faces. There’s a grin on your face as you rest your fingertips around its rough edges, almost as if you were expecting this while carmy blows out a breath.

“The hell is this place?”

You peek over at him, “some next level shit, berzatto.”

“Yeah…I think I’m starting to catch on.”

You turn your attention back to the menu, swiping your fingertips along the touch screen although you’ve heard things about the menu, which they kept offline since apparently it renews monthly.

“What looks good?”

“Uh…these pages aren’t even labeled." Carmy exhales through his nose, eyes searching all over the tablet, "I have no clue. You?”

The words come at ease for you, "One of almost everything maybe?”

“Sounds good...I guess?”

“On me by the way,” you state with a wink as you flash your company card.

“I’ll get the tip then.” Carmy pats his jeans, the left containing his carton of cigarettes, the right holding his keys, lifting his hips he checks for his wallet although he’s been sitting on his behind for about ten minutes now.

You don’t argue with that, eyes in awe at the selection of items as you start ordering, “don’t forget to order your drink.”

“Water should be fine,” Carmy mutters to himself, eyes scanning over the first strange title of water that is described as flower and ginger infused purified water and decides to go with that.

You finally express after rapidly letting your fingers go over the screen and taking a picture with your phone, “…Okay, so the only way for us to enjoy that huge discount is to act like we’re dating.”

It sounded so easy to you as you quickly shifted to pick up your pen and start writing notes.

“What was that?” Carmy pressed his elbows into the edge of the table, making sure he heard you right since he’s not even sure if he can trust his inner thoughts lately.

You’re still scribbling but also turning your face towards the messy haired chef, “you heard me. We have to act like we’re in a relationship because I’ve definitely went over the budget on the card.”

“That’s not really my problem?”

“Yes it is,” you demand, “you agreed to be my plus one so that’s that. Plus this menu further confirmed my suspicions from the email.”

Carmy scratches at his brow confused, “what are you talking about, aspen?”

“Here,” you swipe across your screen towards Carmy’s device, which brings up another screen instantly to carmy who’s in awe but scans over the details.

You didn’t share the email with him but he’s heard about how high tech this restaurant is but didn’t have the time to do his own research.

*Significant others in attendance are subject to applicable discounts.*

Carmy feels his stomach cramp at the fine print and it so small that he was sure anyone could have missed that.

Not you.

“…how exactly are we supposed to prove that, hm?” He's gripping at his greasy hair now, feeling himself getting a bit worked up about this.

You fanned your hand along, “just do what couples do and follow my lead...Depending on our witnesses,” you whisper as you look around, “they could always assume that’s what we are anyways.”

Part of carmy didn’t like how that came off.

“What, so you’d fake date me for discounted food but you wouldn’t real date me even though I could take you out to the best restaurants out there in town every fucking night if you wanted me to?” Flies out of Carmy’s mouth before he can even process what he’s saying.

That stoops you too, making you press your back against the chair in thought. That wouldn’t be going down in the notes, as you stare at the pen in between your fingers for a moment. Which brings you back to Carmy’s tatted fingers first that touched you in ways that romance novelist craved to write about.

So you may have left that out, how a shared conversation about the “heartless” review of then Chicagoland turned the bear melted into hot and heavy actions in the front seat of your Mazda. It hits you in those same flashes you take of dishes: the unsure sloppy kisses, you taking the lead to get Carmy to just touch you, shaky hands that trace the tattoo from your rib cage down to your hip before soon holding steady and angled just right beneath your red tapered trousers.

“Where did that come from?” You question just as a server greets you, delivering drinks and announcing the small plates should be out in the next five minutes with a timer appearing on both of the stone tablets.

Carmy says, “you—you didn’t just think I forget right?”

“Well I was hoping.” You were honest, “neither of us are ready for relationships—especially hearing about you and Claire.”

Carmy felt his eye twitch, “and how do you know about that?”

Sydney.

You wouldn’t throw her under the bus like that although you could tell carmy already knew.

“I have my resources but don’t think I’ve been asking around about you or anything like that.” You sipped at the raspberry mint cocktail, it could be stronger.

His thumbs are shaking first on the table top but his icy stare made your chest pulsate in a way you didn't particularly like, “…would that be so bad?”

You and carmy didn’t exactly know each other well enough besides a conversation once had and with his hand down your pants! and you trying to get him to crash, clothes still on right in the center of his lap—It was a spur of the moment hookup and you could tell it was not something that happened often for carmy. He never had time for it or bothered to get attached but there was something about you that had him thinking otherwise. What was supposed to be a one time thing that you swept to the back of your mind was being brought up again.

The annoyance overtook what that feeling brought in the front seat of your ride. You weren’t ignoring carmy after that but the both of you had a lot on your plate with him renovating a restaurant and you diving back into your own work. Both fields of work seemed to matter more and not once did you think he ever thought about you in that way.

Communication was important people!

And here you thought he wanted nothing to do with you, especially with you showing up to the grand opening of The Bear. Now here you were months later, basically at your benefit, face to face hearing only pieces of what Carmen Berzatto was thinking.

“Hey, guys!” A familiar voice gathers your attention and you both turn to see Sydney smiling at you two.

Carmy widens his eyes, “Syd, what’re you doing here?”

Sydney snorted, “doing the same thing you’re doing? Having dinner.”

“Right.” He lightly shakes his head.

“Oh my god…am I interrupting this um? Date?” Sydney quickly connected the dots eyeing the both of you back and forth while you’re choking on your drink, “you okay?”

She pats your back for you while you gasp and Carmy slides over his water your way although you have your own glass near by. Gaining some air, you swallow some water and breathe through your nose. Normally you would have a response for Sydney’s joke but given what carmy just said to you had your mind running along with some burning tears you wiped away.

“So this is where you’ve been instead of answering me back?” You decide to switch the subject-you were great at that-wheezing a bit while Carmy scoffs and looks away.

Sydney frowns, “huh? When did you call me besides the FaceTime call…” she starts and pulls out her phone, “oh shit sorry. I placed it on do not disturb like thirty minutes after you didn’t call me back. I got wrapped into some entail about the menu from one of the chef’s that works here and is also a friend.”

Carmy speaks, “Didn’t know you had a connect with anybody here, Syd.”

“Can’t reveal all my moves, Carm.” She winks and lightly elbows him while Carmy sends her a small smile and a shake of his head.

Carmy asks, “scooping out our competition?”

“Only a little," She pinches her fingers before continuing, "and my dad thought it would be a place I wanted to try.” Sydney admits, “and if you two weren’t on a date I’d say let’s make this a group thing! so I’ll be going! I see my dad coming back from the bathroom…he’s got like a bladder problem and I don’t know why I’m sharing that with you two. But bye! Enjoy and just know I’ll be keeping my eye on you two.”

“Fuck,” carmy exhaled feeling his nerves rising, “don’t do that.”

Sydney chuckles to herself and sends a wave to you two before walking back to her table by the window.

“Siddy kicked me to the curb for her dad,” you sigh resting your cheek into your knuckles for a moment, “can’t be mad at that.”

“But you can be mad at me for what exactly?”

“You wanna do this with me right now?”

“Yeah, I think I do.”

“I thought we could move past what happened—

“You can say it you know? Me with my fingers inside—

“Excuse me!” You hiss, “I don’t need you to repeat action by action thank you. I was there too. We both know what happened, we’d agreed we can coexist around this big ass city. I show up to support—

“Did you though?” Carmy pressed, “support me? Or am I waiting for something else to be thrown at me with your upcoming review?”

“What?!” You bite, “is that what your stank ass attitude is about?”

Carmy tightened his jaw just as the first serving was handed over. You let him sulk in that for some time as you study the plating of the four appetizers, making note of each before taking more pictures with your sony.

“I wasn’t there to write a review.” You reply.

“I saw you—

“Let me finish. I understand pressure so I get it but you have to learn to channel your anger and this grief, elsewhere and deal with it better without projecting it onto any and everybody. I’ll tell you that right now that won’t get you anywhere and especially with me, Carmen.” You affirm.

You’ve been in Carmy’s position before so you can speak with experience. He seemed to always be waiting for the worse to continue filling up his plate but it takes time to accept the good in life. He was giving you something but you weren’t sure it was the best option for the both of you and you weren’t afraid to say that.

“Alright…I didn’t come here to talk about feelings either you know? That’s what those meetings are for.” Carmy spills just a tad.

You stare at the vibrant but delicate plating but his tone and the soft upbeat tempo above your heads don’t go unnoticed. “What did you come here for then?”

Carmy blinks and snatches up a spoon, almost weighing it in his hands before he dives the utensil into the dish. He stares as the stretch of cheese, twisting the spoon to break it apart before holding the Macaroni and Brie with Crab out for you to take the first bite.

He doesn’t answer for awhile and so you do the honors of taking a bite and savoring it's texture and taste.

“…that’s not my favorite.” You announce and notice that Carmy waited for your view.

He raises his brows, “tell me about it?”

“They need different plating.” You deeply sigh, “I know that type of plating works best for a dessert and that’s not it. There’s more breadcrumbs than meat, which seems to not be fully removed from its shell so be careful with that. It’s also lacking flavor even with the brie, which is my least favorite kind of cheese in Mac, although many swear by it.”

Carmy flicks his attention to your disappointment to you scribbling into your notepad with a shake of your head. If he was making you a dish, he’d try his hardest to make sure it was everything you ever wanted.

He quickly has his share and thinks to himself.

Carmy can agree, this was lacking flavor and the breadcrumbs didn’t even have a crunch to them. You can’t just depend on the cheese to give you flavor in Mac and cheese.

“What’s your favorite dish? I—I don’t think I ever asked you that. We just went straight into talking about the beef.”

And doing dirty things in the front seat but who needs to relive that?!

You look up from your notes and lift your chin, “you’re looking at it. It’s childish I know...but that’s exactly what it reminds me of: my childhood. Mac and cheese! then as I got into my adulthood…crab kinda took over. Which is funny because I hated on it for so long growing up. My papa—my grandad, he helped my mom raise me, he's from Ocean City so you can only imagine the amount of seafood on our table.”

You’re smiling to yourself and Carmy can’t help but to feel his small laughter lines appear by his lips as you’re locked into some memory only you can remember vividly. This was the most Carmy was learning about you, sure it may not look like much but he didn’t feel the need to dissociate even if at times he really couldn’t help it.

You were the question mark that he wanted to figure out and get all the answers to. Maybe it was his gut and he shouldn’t have blabbed to sugar about you because now Carmy was thinking this was Michael’s doing.

If you believe in that shit.

So the both of you take your time trying the small dishes before getting the main courses. It seems the longer you sit across from each other—the tension was definitely still there especially with Sydney’s eyes burning into the two of you across the room and attempting to not get caught—although she had once or twice but gradually it lifted as you and carmy shared this time together.

He watched you work while you asked for his input before you told your own. He also provided a few things he would do to tweak it if he agreed with what you didn’t enjoy. Which was eye-opening for you, yes you went to school for journalism and sat in on some cooking classes once that also tied into your passion for learning. After completing your first degree you decided culinary may take you to different heights and enrolled into culinary school. You didn’t find the need to continue going through with being a chef after Copenhagen, finding writing to be your stronger suit but you still understood food and the relationship with it when it came to chef’s.

So you took carmy’s input into consideration.

With the last serving being a Asian dessert called, “Jjan Hae,” which consisted of: coconut rice pudding served with fresh citrus (orange, grapefruit, kumquat) and coffee ice cream, topped with crispy pop rice & a shot of Korean rice wine, it was a strange concept but the both of you came to terms with the dessert working well.

Carmy even took a video to show Marcus tomorrow at the bear and sent a photo to an old colleague, Luca, that you were also familiar with considering Noma was a thing that you didn’t bother speaking much on…but it was your turn to give carmy the last serving.

He hesitated since he had his own bowl, which he finished way before you did but it was clear you wanted him to have the last bite so he also took it while saying something with his eyes.

Breaking the stare, the both of you felt your phone buzz with a text. Carmy didn’t jump to answer it right away…he was the worst texter according to Nat and Sydney but you can answer for the both of you as it was a group text from Sydney who was long gone with her dad.

Siddy + (773) XXX-XXXX: Carmy, invite aspen to breakfast in the morning?? See you guys then! 👍🏾😉

“You guys do breakfast at the bear now?” You say lifting your eyes from your screen.

You heard Sydney made a mean omelette but you haven’t been back since earlier this year and you weren’t in the mood for that that night.

Carmy frowns and closes his eyes with a shake of his head, “uh yeah it’s a new thing that Syd came up with but we agreed to do that with everyone once a month…later this month. Why?”

“She wants me to have breakfast with you guys…knowing I’m not a morning person.”

“It’s not happening tomorrow anyway, so what is she talking about?” Carmy digs into his jacket, where he carelessly shoved his phone into after sending the photo off to Luca.

Another text rings out: at carmy’s place. just us three???

Not Sydney making plans and then placing it all at Carmy’s apartment.

He’s taking a breath, almost as a silent reminder for him to do so before his thumbs move over his screen: i don’t even eat breakfast, Syd.

Syd: well youre gonna.

~ Syd has notifications silenced 🌙 ~

“Well, looks like your work wife told your ass.” You laugh, which you translated into her message but didn’t comment further than that.

Carmy harshly exhales through his nostrils in disbelief, “my work wife huh?”

He didn’t hate how that sounded but he also never thought about marriage or relationships in awhile.

“Yeah…the proof is in the pudding, no matter what anyone says.”

Carmy pinched at his bottom lip as he attempts to dryly joke, “I thought it was rice? and what about outside work…”

“That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” You shrug, getting ready to pack up your notes and cameras.

You turn your attention to the table, which knows just when to lift as you tap on the screen to signal that you’re ready to pay while holding out your company card, “are you paying cash for the tip or card?”

“Uh, cash.” Carmy answers, “…what if I’m starting to think about what come’s next?”

“With Syd?” You question, your now sage and mint scented hands flying over the screen as you select the correct paying method before tapping your company card against the screen.

Carmy starts bouncing his leg underneath the table, “with everything.”

“Well…when you’re ready you’ll make moves to make it happen won’t you?”

Carmy dips his head, “you bet.”

And here comes the intense eye contact that you can’t help but to huff out some laughter.

“What’s funny?”

“It’s just people with light eyes always do this thing where they’re just staring into your soul you know? Like damn, relax!”

Carmy’s confused as he holds his wallet open, “uh sorry for having eyes?”

“Shut up, glacier eyes.” You tell while Carmy just snorts at you.

The both of you don’t waste any time rushing back to his car as the clock is approaching 10pm. The wind’s definitely picked up and the temperature dropped, making it easier not to get caught up in the night time city lights which you often liked to do. Back in the van, carmy doesn’t wait to crank up the heat and you don’t bother to mess with the radio this time.

“So?” Carmy asks as he waits for the car to warm up some.

You keep your attention outside the window shield, “yes?”

“What’s the rating?”

“What makes you think I’m going to tell you that, Carmen?” You continue holding yourself.

He sniffs, “I mean—I was sitting across from you the entire night while you told me some of your thoughts.”

“So you thought you should also get the final score? I don’t even know what I’m going to say yet.”

“Ah, I think you’ve got some idea.” Carmy lolls his head over to peek at you.

Laughter bubbles past your lips, “I do. I’ve absolutely had better because—what the fuck was that?”

Carmen feels a crooked smirk appear on his own face, “I don’t want to completely bash other chef’s work but fuck, I thought it was just me? You said it got a 4.3 out of 5? The ambience and service was spot on but…the flavor for most of the dishes?”

“I knew you knew something about seasoning,” you continued laughing while carmy rolled his eyes, “should spend less on the tech and interior and more on some fresh herbs.”

“Isn’t it called simmer saffron?”

That made you laugh even harder as you gripped your stomach, “You’ve got that so backwards!”

And carmy couldn’t help but to scan your features as you laughed and he felt his chest getting somewhat lighter? Just listening to the sound of you and being beside you. What kind of feeling was this? He’s felt it before looking at someone else but that feeling was more of a tug with that light while this one slowly poured in from the black.

“Don’t be too hard on ‘em though? There’s always room for improvement.”

“Sure, but we both know the bear is better and you guys don’t have a waist list months in advance.”

“We also don’t have any celebrities showing up either.”

“Yet.”

Carmy taps his fingers against the steering wheel, appreciating that, “right, yet…I’m sorry about March. I was too in my head about so much shit and you’re right, I took it out on everyone and I’m still trying to make up for it.”

“Effort doesn’t ever go unnoticed if people look and feel it hard enough.”

Carmy chews on his lips at that, “if you believe that…then why do you feel what I said about dating—uh us—about us dating is out of the blue?”

“I said that?”

“Your eyes did. It’s the most expressive thing about you which is funny to me when you talk so much shit about mine when you hide the rest of it away on your face. It’s fucking confusing but I think I gathered that from our dinner tonight.”

Carmy was just as detail oriented as you. It was in his language with food and maybe even in his tattoos that you tried to understand starting with his fingers first. The way he spoke about what he would do with the dishes that were lackluster, except for the dessert—that was pretty good. Carmy wasn’t much of a talker because he wasn’t sure how to express himself, always been that way since you knew of him at Noma…but he told just enough in his dishes and you told just enough between the lines you wrote.

Someone just had to look hard enough.

“…I ever tell you I was engaged? Of course I didn’t, we’re still…I don’t know what the hell we’re doing here Carmen but I’m starting to sense that we could be special if we both want this badly.”

“What do you want?”

“Does anyone ever really know?” You laughed, “ I guess someone to look past the circumstanial and I had that once but then he died. So that was the end of that.”

“You swore off love.”

“Love is many things but maybe I closed off the long lasting part.”

Carmy could relate to that as least with family. He never had much interest in romance even growing up because he lacked that confidence in anything being permanent besides the chaos he’s used to, then he found some of it once he proved what he fucking set out to do yet cooking was all Carmen really opened himself up to. While Luca and others encouraged him to have a night out in the town, he always left early or if there was one person that caught his interest, they get to talking and both get bored of each other since Carmy hardly made the move to take them back to his. Before Noma?

Maybe.

Back in Paris there was one that could have been permanent but Carmy had to break her heart since Noma was calling. Culinary was his true love and he honestly couldn’t tell you what she even looked like now if you asked him. Things that should have mattered tended to get buried in the blue of his mind unfortunately.

He didn’t have the time to be attached and you didn’t want to have your heart ripped out again.

“How’d—

“He was a firefighter.” Was all you said and just those words alone told carmy it was anything but peaceful.

It took a lot for carmy to scream at himself how Michael went out and he imagined it might have been the same for you. So he wouldn’t dare ask for further morbid details because what did that help?

So maybe you weren’t wrong about the both of you not being ready to take that step on going on dates but change was everlasting.

“Uh—what about breakfast then after that not so great meal?” Carmy asks as he pulls off from the curb now.

You think about it. Really think about it that carmy starts to assume you may have dozed off.

“Depends on the time honestly? And who am I to turn down a free meal?” You beamed at Carmy who lifts his shoulders with a chuckle.

Carmy explains, “Syd and I usually start our days early, sometimes even earlier for me if I don’t get enough hours in. but thanks to the reno those on the early shift can get prep ready and I heard…you’re not a morning person?”

You’re just as sarcastic but there’s no lies, “I don’t even know my name or birthdate when I first wake up…what do you think?”

Carmy snickered at that, “okay? So how does 10am sound?”

“That’s pushing it but…I think I can be there so that’ll give me the rest of the day to work from home.”

Carmy nods, “can’t wait to read it. Shake on it?”

“On what? My review or showing up?”

“Both.”

“I’m not sending you a sneak peek, maybe syd or even nat but not you.”

“Ouch.” Carmy mocks, still waiting for your hand to touch his.

And when you do there’s a spark, that makes you yank your hand back and you feel like you’re in one of those cheesy teen movies.

You’re aware carmy’s felt that too but he just clears his throat and placed his hand back on the steering wheel. Leaving you to lightly massage the palm of your hand, now glancing at the profile of carmy’s face.

Life takes time to live but once you start to just let it be, the green starts to stand out more and can be equally as joyous…once you get through the rain and mud that is.

And once the ice blue sets back on you, the both of you can’t exactly see the future but there’s always warmth waiting for the cold to give them a try.

𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡ 𓍯𓂃𓏧♡

February fluff anthology series continues here.

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brucequeensteen · 5 months

Text

why did head (1968) flop so badly, you may ask?

the short answer is: terrible promotion. why the promotion was so terrible is another question entirely. there are two schools of thought: 1) bob rafelson and jack nicholson were being deliberately avant garde and obtuse (maybe to attract a certain psychedelic audience) or 2) deliberate malicious intent from columbia pictures to get rid of the monkees (by November 1968, when the movie premiered, the monkees TV show had been cancelled for 2 months).

(LA Times, 2008)

what exactly was the ad campaign? Well, it was originally supposed to be Bob Rafelson's head displayed for a few seconds smiling at the camera--according to Wikipedia this was a spoof on Andy Warhol's short film Blowjob (1964). but in the end it was John Brockman, even more unknown, and he was just the guy who was supposed to be filming the clip.

from Andrew Sandoval's The Monkees Day-by-day Story (page 210). explains more about why they did this. Micky also says he thinks it was a way to get back at the monkees for striking on the first day of filming when they found out they would get no creative credit for the film and had been "getting ripped off pretty badly" basically for years.

another factor was the critics reviews. obviously Head is not your average film, and loads of reviews looked down on it as psychedelic garbled trash. they didn't get it. there were positive reviews of course, but most people just didnt get it (and you cant really blame them - its at its most enjoyable when you are a) a bit of a freak, b) a total anti-capitalist, or c) substantially aware of the horrors the monkees were going through at this point. no film critic at the time ticked all 3 of these boxes). i think at this point bob rafelson panicked, because he wanted the film to do well, he just wanted it to do well independent of the monkees (hubris). there's a funny story about the night before the movie premiered in new york, he and jack nicholson got arrested for putting up stickers promoting head, after jack tried to put one on a police officer's helmet. and it makes me wonder why he then didn't fight harder for the film to do well.

it's funny (re: sad) how so many things came together to bring about the doom of the film: bob rafelson and jack nicholson's own cockiness about how well the film would do, their complete disregard of the what the monkees themselves wanted, the studio being tired of the monkees/already having cancelled the show, the whole phenomenon dying out a little since record sales had gone down (the last album they put out was in february 1968 - by this point it was november, and the Head album wouldn't be released until December)...

another peter quote because I trust him the most (again from the day-by-day story, page 210)

Mike over the years has said different things, at one point calling Head an assisted suicide (pertaining to his own desires to kill the monkees phenomenon and be seen as a serious musician), at other points calling it a murder (which i think is how peter continued to see it throughout most of his life, while simultaneously recognising its artistic and cinematic merit, and also saying the soundtrack was the record he was proudest of besides headquarters 1967). but here's something Mike said in the Head commentary (some time in the early 2000s) which i find simultaneously funny and devestating:

so yeah. the main conclusion is that nothing was in Head's favour for it to do well. there were conflicting visions, conflicting motivations, a total lack of interest from Columbia pictures, and no one was on the Monkees' side, not even really the monkees themselves. the world just wasn't ready for the crazy anti-monkees monkee movie. their swag was too different. everybody wanted to kill them. but they didnt have to cos they killed themselves it happens right at the start of the movie and again at the end. WATCH HEAD.

#hopefully this makes sense. i love to talk about head #the monkees #head 1968 #op

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pearlywritings · 2 years

Text

Can we get a...

synopsis: twins’ seventh birthday is almost half a year away, but it seems that they already have a gift in mind. Though you surely did not expect this.

pairing: Diluc x fem!reader, your twin sons Rufus and Lucas

tw: fluff, pregnancy

word count: 3.5k+ words

Family AU Masterlist

What a peaceful February afternoon. The fire flickers and wood cracks in the fireplace, warming up the area around. In this peaceful noise you make out Adelinde's voice quietly discussing something with Elzer in his study, with a door left slightly ajar - a precaution so she can always hear in case you call for her. But you don't think you'll need her help anytime soon, feeling quite cozy at the moment - multiple pillows support your back as you are resting on the sofa, big comforter covers your body from stomach and down, two boys are snuggling under it from both sides of your body, providing additional warmth and contently squinting from your fingers threading through their thick locks and gently massaging their heads. Their teacher has just left not so long ago and you are letting them relax after the whole morning of studying. After all, a break for yourself was around the corner as well, so the trade papers you'd been reviewing were put on a coffee table aside. You'll have enough time to finish this little work Diluc still lets you do in your condition, while he himself is out to check on the tavern in the city and, as you are guessing, buy kids some treats for their good behavior as well.

You feel Rufus shift a little on your right, bringing your mind back to reality - for a moment the serene atmosphere lulled you into a slumber. It makes you aware of what the two redheads have been doing ever since they joined you in the living room to cuddle - silently exchanging glances over your six-(almost seven)-month pregnant stomach. They are up to something it seems, but there is no hint of mischief in the air, so it should be something harmless - you won't pry until they want to share it with you.

Which happens pretty soon, as the boys nod simultaneously and then two sets of ruby-like eyes glance up at your face and you see it as a signal for a conversation, drawing your hands away from their heads and resting around their half-turned to you bodies.

"Mama?" Rufus is the one who starts the conversation after a few more moments of silence. You tenderly smile and rub his back in reassurance.

"Yes, baby, what is it?"

"Remember how it's our birthday in August?" The boy continues as his brother fumbles with his fingers a little, giving out his nervousness. You know your boys, despite their quite creative and energetic nature they rarely ask for something overly crazy or something you and your husband couldn't afford for them, so this one must be really serious, if the younger of the twins fidgets at the prospect of it. Your fingertips slide to his arm and down to his hands, offering to hold them, and Lucas puts them onto your palm almost immediately.

"Of course I do, loves," your smile never disappears, if anything it gets wider - they will be turning seven, hard to believe it's been several years of your babies' lives already. "Oh! You have something in mind for how you want to celebrate it?" They shake their heads, so you try another, "presents?"

This time they confirm your guess with a nod and Lucas, playing with your fingers, hums.

"And what might it be?" You ask curiously, once again witnessing how the boys exchange glances, as if deciding who'll be the one to announce it. To your surprise they both take deep inhale, look back at you and blurt the question out together:

"Canwegetadog!?"

"Wha-" caught off guard you stare at them with wide eyes, though very quickly recovering. "I am sorry, could you repeat that? I don't think I heard it with all this speed."

Twins pout, as if saying it again offends them very much, but eventually Lucas shakes your hand a little, asking for your attention, which you direct at him.

"Yes?"

"Me and Rufus were wondering… Would you and papa let us get a dog?"

Oh. A pet? Wow, this is new and serious indeed.

"A dog?" They nod again, tense like bowstrings awaiting for your reaction, almost not blinking as they stare at you. A little bit caught off guard you keep your silence for a few seconds, thinking over their request. But it looks like the lack of response from you is concerning for the twins, as they become even more fidgety and avert their ruby eyes, thinking they did the wrong thing, after all, that's an almost life-changing matter. They nearly jump when your hands come to rest on their backs, comfortingly rubbing.

"What kind of dog? Do you have something in mind or you just decided you simply want a dog?"

As if by a wave of the magic wand their shoulders relax, gaze back on you and smiles once again plastered on their cute little faces. Rufus immediately starts untangling himself from under the comforter.

"Oh, we can show! I'll go get it, wait a moment, ma!" Finally free, he jumps off the sofa, swiftly turns back to tuck the fabric back at your side and quickly runs to the stairs and to their room. Lucas presses himself into you again, one arm wrapping around your stomach and his face tucked into your ribs.

"You are not mad?" You hear in a muffled question, which makes you chuckle and put your own hand on top of his.

"Of course not, Lu. An animal companion is a sweet idea, I love it. But before I, or your father make any decisions, we need to fully understand what you two want and how to operate it," and for you to know what to use when appealing the idea to your husband, because it happened so that there’s never been a conversation about pets, aside from his falcon, who is more of a companion to him, and the kids are still wary around her.

"Oh, you mean like, the size, the eating and walking habits, how it is with people?" The younger peaks up and you are amazed at how clever he is.

"Yes, that's what I mean…how do you know?"

"We read it in a book brother went to get. Dad let us use the library in his study and Rufus found an encyclopedia about dogs. There are pictures and all kinds of interesting stuff. We asked Addie to help us a little with the words we didn't know."

You hum in acknowledgement, not having time to say anything else, because you can hear your other son reappearing on top of the stairs and soon tapping his way down and back to you and his brother.

"Here!" He proudly presents you a pretty slim volume and this time you don't even need both hands to take it. Lucas patiently waits for his brother to climb back under the warm fabric and get comfortable and only then tells you to open page 56.

Placing the book partly on your belly, you start searching for the page and find it pretty quickly, as it appears to be the first one in the Snezhnayan national breeds section. While many domestic animals were bred and selected in their homelands, it's not strange to see some of them distributed to other regions as well, so, the non-Mondstadt-originated dog doesn't surprise you.

Seeing the name of the breed though makes you snort on the inside, imagining the look on Diluc's face when he hears about it.

"Snezhnayan Borzoi?" You ask, looking at the illustration of a very elegant dog with long slim legs, equally long curved body, long snout, long tail, long beautiful fur… yeah, everything about this dog is long, which in the end gives a very noble-looking complexion.

Boys nod.

"Yes, we really, really want it… Look how pretty it is!"

"And you both agreed on the same dog?" You ask a little bit in disbelief, knowing very well, how different some of their tastes are.

"Well…" Rufus trails off, staring at his brother, who returns the same kind of look to him.

"We wanted different," Lucas admits, "but when we told Addie, she said two dogs are too much."

Even if they don't elaborate, you understand the meaning behind it. Too much in general. And also there is soon going to be a new member of the family, which means your and Diluc's attention would be occupied even more, and if one dog (or a puppy, at first) is still manageable, two is hardly so.

Looks like your boys are growing so well, learning to make some sacrifices and be open to compromising, your heart couldn't be more happy for them.

"This beauty is pretty indeed," you say after their explanation and you can see how ruby eyes light up with hope. "And you came to an agreement, great job, boys!"

Two sets of arms wrap around your neck and both of your cheeks get a loud smooch.

"Thank you, mama! Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

You laugh joyfully, turning head side to side to kiss their foreheads.

"Don't thank me just yet, we still have a game to play," ah, yes, the game the three of you practice before laying out some of the ideas to their father. It both helps to convince him faster and for the twins to develop the argumentative skills. And also works vice versa when they go to dad first with the matter where you have the final word in.

"Why don't you prove to me this sweet dog is the one for you and that generally it is a good idea," the smiles get wider, as they understand what you are implying, and by the confident looks on their faces you can guess they’ve already thought beforehand of what to say to you.

"Yes, mom! So," Lucas decides to not beat around the bush and start right away, "we do not ask for two dogs. We know it is a big deal," he says it so proudly, that you can hardly contain a chuckle.

"Secondly," Rufus points into the book and you glance at the numbers presented there, "this dog is big."

"And why is that good?" the older twin furrows his brows for a moment in thought, pursing his lips. You patiently wait, before he comes up with something.

"I think a small dog is hard to notice and if it barks, the sound is too, um…" ruby gaze darts to the side for help.

"Disturbing," his brother offers.

"Yes, disturbing! And you'll soon have a baby…" both boys look at your belly and Rufus gently pats it, which brings a bright glint to your eyes. They are so considerate.

"Besides," Lucas chirps again, "they are quite lazy while inside and won't be too noisy. When outside they love to run a lot and we have a lot of land around for it. I think we can easily go for a walk three times a day with it."

"Hm, but it says here that each walk should take at least an hour. Sure you can handle it?" You point at the paragraph with the descriptions and boys start thinking. "You should understand that this will be your dog and it will listen to you."

"Yeah, we read that borzoi do not really listen, and to the people who are not their owners…" Rufus sighs, and you see the understanding that maids will be of little help sink in. "But we will try very hard! We can walk after breakfast… ah, wait, the classes…" at that you chuckle, and reach to ruffle his hair.

"Don't worry, I am sure your dad won't mind rearranging the beginning of your classes to start a bit later," their faces beam with a smile again.

"And then we can easily walk in the afternoon and evening!"

"That's great, loves," the praise encourages them even more and by the time it's lunch hour, the twins have laid out some more proving points, making you believe Diluc would be easily swayed.

"You really want this dog, aren't you…" you muse, finishing reading the article the book offered. They eagerly nod. From the corner of your eye you notice Adelinde, who has come out to check on you three and the fireplace. Suddenly she chuckles.

"Sorry, My Lady, I happened to overhear your conversation."

"Oh, that's fine," you offer her a reassuring smile, which she returns with a sweet one of her own. "But what made you laugh, Adelinde?"

"Just remembered how animated young masters have been for the last couple of days, when talking about this beautiful dog in my presence."

"Is that so?" The boys sheepishly giggle, starting to make their way out of the comforter's embrace. "Ah, nevermind," shaking your head and passing a book back to Rufus, you move the comforter completely off of you, and, with some assistance from Adelinde, rise to your feet.

"It's time for lunch, isn't it? Let's go have it, and when dad comes home in the evening, you'll talk to him, alright?"

"Mhm!"

"Good. Now go and put the book back into your room, wash your hands and be ready to dig in," your sons disappear as quickly as you finish your speech. The woman next to you offers you her arm and you thankfully lean on it, even if it's just mere meters to the dining table.

An opening door draws your attention from the book and instantly the bookmark is placed between the pages as your eyes connect with your husband's vermillion ones. The jacket has probably been taken away by the maids to clean and dry and he also lacks a cravat and a vest. What he isn't lacking is a small smile brightening up his whole face and reflecting in the burning fire of his soul.

"Good evening, my flame," the greeting is sweet on his tongue and the almost unnoticeable sprint in his steps is an indicator of how much the Master of the Dawn Winery has been craving to be back with you, his wife. The bed dips under his knee and the gloves are swiftly taken off and thrown to the side. Big scarred warm palms cup your cheeks and a kiss is pressed against your lips, sealing his words like a barrel of dandelion wine.

Diluc cradles your face in his hands so delicately, so gingerly, you start thinking he is back to viewing you as a glass piece that can easily break, which was proved wrong many times before. You kiss him back with a little more force to remind him you are not fragile and the man seems to chuckle, drawing his face away to gaze at you lovingly. Only for his eyes to widen a little when you peck his nose and rub yours against it.

A rich laugh is born within the confinement of his chest and a few more fleeting kisses are placed all over your cheeks.

"Missed me this much?" You murmur quietly, afraid to break the atmosphere. Your husband hums, rubbing his thumbs over your cheekbones.

"Yes…missed you so much," then his gaze flits down to your stomach and the next moment the palms are pressed against your rounded belly, with lips following soon after.

"Missed the little one too, love."

Instantly your fingers go into his flaming hair, releasing them from a high ponytail and carefully running digits through the heavy locks. You let him have his moment, lovingly staring at the back of his head, listening to the softest murmurs offered to the baby in your belly, your third child, your soon-to-be-joy. Just two more months.

"Do you feel sore?" His burning gaze is back on your calm one, worrying about you overworking your body - you are carrying a big weight on your midsection all the time, he knows it's hard.

"Luc, love, have you forgotten? You literally increased payment to my maids to take care of me whenever you can't. Soon I'll get addicted to all these nice massages."

"That's not a bad thing."

"Yeah, I am aware, and you could use some too. I can feel your tense back under my fingertips"

"Love," he groans but you know, it's not of annoyance, just him being playful. "Besides you know our staff adore you. Helping you in any way possible, especially now, is no trouble for them."

“Your ability to convince me of anything in the sweetest ways possible scares me,” you laugh, when he gives you an unamused glance, and poke his cheek with a finger.

“Speaking of convincing, have boys already gotten to you with one?”

You bring your hands from his hair to your stomach when your husband draws himself back and off the bed to properly undress and change while having a conversation with you. By the sound of him lightly chuckling you know they have.

“Oh, when I tell you I got worried when they met me at the front door and urgently asked to go to my study - you better believe it,” he grabs the gloves he threw away minutes ago and walks to put them in a drawer.

“So, how went the discussion of their desired birthday present?” You really are curious - after all that’s such a big decision and, by the looks of it, means a lot to your sons, who, as it now becomes clear to you why, have even spent the last week being on their best, borderline perfect behavior.

Diluc grabs a hanger from a wardrobe and puts it on the bed, starting to work on his shirt. A concentrated look on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and the need to know his thoughts stirs impatience inside.

“Tell me. Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me!”

“Well,” a fond look of his crimson eyes graces your somewhat displeased expression, quickly making you melt, earning a smile from him as well, “it went very well.”

“For you or for them?”

“What if I say both?” he teases and you almost roll your eyes. If the bed wasn’t so big you’d reach out and kick his leg.

“Come oooon, I am intrigued!”

“I know you are,” a chuckle.

“You know and yet you keep it a secret? Unbelievable. Your brother’s antics rub on you it seems. Don’t look at me like that, we both know you were even worse in your teens.”

“One day he won’t see the light of it,” Diluc promises without malice and, finally changed, climbs onto the bed to settle by your side, only to be attacked by your loving kisses and a big hug, which he accepts eagerly, encouraging your affectionate clinginess.

“Tell meeee, did they do well?”

“In their game of conviction? Of course they did, you are their teacher,” at that you giggle.

“So… Does that mean you told them you’d get a dog? The exact one they want?”

“I didn’t say I’d get them a dog, but I promised to think.”

“Only to get it as a surprise?”

“You know me too well, my flame. And though their choice surprised me, I don't have anything against it.”

“Though the land of origin has it against you?” The man sighs at your joke, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“It’s going to be hard, but I’ll put someone from my people in charge of that. After all, borzoi aren’t popular in Mond, it’s probably been years since the last time some noble adopted a dog like that as an,” he twists his fore and middle fingers, “ ‘exotic pet’.”

“True,” you agree, reaching out to take his hand and put a head on his shoulder. “You think we'll handle it on top of everything?"

"I think we will. I suppose we'll have some time to get adjusted to having the baby here. Then I could help Ru and Lu train the puppy. Borzoi are quite temperamental, after all, they’ll need assistance."

"And once again you are ready to go such lengths to make our babies happy. You are a great father, you know?”

He doesn’t even need to respond, because you both know the answer to this question. Diluc leans to rest the cheek against your head and intertwines your fingers, gently squeezing to tighten the hold. Your words, this exact admittance brought a bigger smile on the man’s face and caused butterflies to dance in his chest, caressing his heart with the soft trembles of their wings. Yes, he’d do many things to assure his family’s safety and happiness, as it became his life purpose after meeting you.

Besides, birthdays happen once a year, right? And getting a dog isn’t all that extraordinary, - knowing his boys and their wild imagination he could’ve expected something mind-blowing (like that time when they saw Klee using her bombs and begged you two to install those instead of the fireworks. Obviously you two declined, letting Albedo take care of that part, so in the end Rufus and Lucas still were entertained and content with the fire show).

So, yeah, Snezhnayan Borzoi it is.

Maybe he could teach it to bark at Kaeya. Just because he can.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #diluc ragnvindr #diluc x reader #diluc x fem!reader #diluc ragnvindr x reader #dadluc #genshin oc #genshin impact fluff #pearly family au

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creations-by-chaosfay · 1 month

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Pssst...come here. I have a little secret.

Selling one of my original paintings will result in hitting the current goal and someone receiving a free quilt.

Selling all four of my original paintings will result in wiping out Cacoa's vet bills (there are two and total just over $1400 USD), paying for a plumber (wet season will be here soon and we need the plumber NOW), wiping out one of our other debts (around $1200 as of this post, and it will start collecting interest next spring), and a good chunk of the rest (around $5k, not collecting interest). That means several people will be winning a quilt.

To anyone who purchases one of my paintings: I will be happy to make a little quilt for you as thanks.

Paying off the debts will mean we can actually save money rather than spending it all on bills, food, and paying off these debts. More exciting goals will be posted instead, like being able to purchase things from my wishlist. You may, of course, purchase these on my behalf and receive a free quilt as a show of thanks. It would just be really nice if I could afford to purchase things myself.

Please, buy my paintings. I would like to no longer have to beg for help, and these are the fastest way to making it possible.

I have $9455 worth of artwork in my shop right now. That includes both my paintings and quilts (coasters and up). More is being added every week until I take a significantly overdue break that's longer than a week (I need at least a month seeing as I've been working virtually nonstop since February). I would be outstanding if it all sold. Right now, I'll be satisfied with just one or two of my paintings selling. Ecstatic if all four sell. I may very well faint in shock if everything in the shop sells before the year is over though. Pay off all our debts, put money aside to replace the plumbing, and purchase some things from my wishlist.

Please share this!!! For those from social media, it means hitting the reblog button, not liking the post. Liking it is a bookmark for you and no one will see it. I'm not on social media (for a long list of reasons) and never will be. If you use social media, please share this information as well as my links. If you've received my work, be it a gift, shop purchase, giveaway prize, or commission, share a review of it on your social media accounts. I'm a Disabled artist (on a fixed income of enforced poverty) and will never be able to work a "Real Job," my husband is the only one employed (currently a dishwasher), and he's also my caregiver (the state pays him and it's enough for the mortgage and a couple bills). Selling my work is the only way I can make any income. Vendoring conventions and craft fairs is not an option due to my health as well as my husband's work schedule, so please don't suggest those.

Thank you!

#words from the artist #artists on tumblr #artist on tumblr #disabled artist #disabled

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riyangiis · 7 months

Text

CHERRIES AND ROSES

you try and confess to ricky through a diary about your thoughts about love and your crush on ricky. (valentines special!!)

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , ricky x gn! reader

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 , fluff

𝐰/𝐜 , 2.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 , bad writing, second lead syndrome.., one-sided love, i feel like this is more abt kazumi than ricky or reader BYE..

𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 !

it wasn't hard to fall for ricky, never. he's so elegant, majestic, talented, everything! you thought that it would be a bother to be friends with him since it would get harder to hide the fact that you were astronomically down bad for him.

you weren't the only one like this. not at all. of course there were other people who like him as much as you do, he has a whole fan club.. you weren't that delusional to even show the fact that you had a crush on him or to show that you have a chance with him, you're insanely far from that. you know that there are people worthy enough to be with him, it's not bad to admire from afar. for now.

sometimes when you try to sneak a glance at him, he's already looking at you. you stop staring , or admiring, after a millisecond. you can always feel that someone is watching your every move whenever ricky is nearby. maybe you're really delusional. you've told your close friends about this problem.

"look for a little longer to be sure!"

your friend rocks you back and forth after hearing your thoughts, she seems more excited than you're supposed to be.

"do i look like i have the guts to do that?"

your friend looks disappointed in your shyness. to be fair you we're actually considering it.. but really, you don't have the guts to do that even if you wanted to do it.

"well maybe? please do it?"

your friend looks at you with puppy eyes. you roll your eyes.

"fine, just not now."

"yayy!"

(try to guess who the friend is in the end!)

"do you really like [name]?"

gyuvin asks ricky. they're currently in an empty classroom with gunwook reviewing his notes for an upcoming test. it has always been their secret meetup spot since they all became a trio.

"gyuv, i really do like them. they're funny, kind, attractive, just everything. i'm sure about this."

ricky reassures gyuvin. even though ricky is popular around the school, gyuvin is just worried that ricky might get used for fame and money. gyuvin also knows well that ricky has been in situations like that. he knows what to do.

"yeah, ricky's fine-"

yujin barges in the door, cutting off gunwook. he just got out of class after a chemistry test. everyone in the room got silent and just stared at him. the classroom was secret indeed, but they had to let yujin know. he was practically begging for them to tell him and it won't hurt to let him join?

"how's the test?"

gunwook asks yujin, breaking the awkward silence. he proudly waves his papers to gunwook, showing a noticeable 18/20 in red.

"happy?"

"phew, that long night of reviewing you didn't go to waste."

gunwook sighs relieved after having to explain everything in detail to yujin for 6 hours just for that quiz. for. free. yujin sits down beside the boys and starts talking about drama from his class.

"did you know kanghee cheated on eunji?"

gasps emitted from the boys, completely leaving the conversation about ricky's crush behind.

when february started, you bought a cute cherry notebook and turned it into a diary to write how much you like ricky and give it to him once the day comes. everyday you fill at leaat 5 pages with whatever seems romantic and cute.

you knew ricky likes diaries, you thought it would be nice to put this in his collection as a valentines gift. of course you saved some pages for him incase he wants to put anything in the diary.

it took you 3 sore fingers, a load of stickers, you preparing to get rejected, also you hoping that this will work, and other stuff. you're lucky that you don't have a busy schedule when valentines is near because this is probably your only way to confess to ricky. you're pretty embarrassed to actually give someone you have a crush on your thoughts about them when they don't even know you. whatever, you had to get this off of your chest somehow.

perfect. your diary is finished. you're planning on putting this on his desk. well, hoping that nobody would just open up and read everything that's been going on in your mind. can't do that.. you can't just put it on his locker, you don't know the code. even if you did, it's probably full of love letters that he won't even notice the notebook. gosh, i'll just ask my friends.

from what your friends said, they told you to put the diary in his bag while he's practicing. you asked your friends, kyungsoo and kazumi, to go with you. kazumi has a friend there that's also in the basketball team so you three were able to go to practice without any suspicions.

"do you think this will work?"

kyungsoo asks nervous. to be honest, you were extremely nervous as well. you've never done stuff like this before. kazumi just scoffs as if he was an expert even though he's new to this as well.

"trust me. when i'm around, we can never fail."

kyungsoo's face softens, she avoids trying to worry or ask a question like that when all she'll get is kazumi being a narcissist as usual. you're close to the court. you see gyuvin, ricky's best friend, on the way.

"[name]! you're here! did you invite your friends?"

gyuvin greeted you, he's also a part of the team. he's currently holding a soda can on his hand that's from the vending machine, is it their break right now?

"yeah! kazumi got invited by minho to watch them and kyungsoo just wanted to go with us since she had nothing to do! how's valentines for you?"

gyuvin scoffs and casually drinks the soda as if he was gets admirers all the time. gunwook walks up to him and barges in the conversation and cuts gyuvin off.

"it's going well for me, as expecte-" "he's lying."

gyuvin tries to silence gunwook and convince you that he's just as famous as his best friend is. they start bickering and forget that they were talking to you in the first place.

"let's just go, we can't waste time."

kazumi whispers to you and kyungsoo as a signal to escape the whole thing. you finally entered the basketball court. you check the seats where ricky's bag usually is. some places are with admirers. too suspicious but you can fit in somehow.

"let's go there."

kyungsoo pointed at an empty spot that's not noticeable and you three can easily watch your surroundings. it's the spot that kristine recommended. as soon as you three were about to go up to the bleachers, ricky walks up to you.

"[name]? out of all the days you decided to see us practice, it's before valentines?"

"we're supposed to be out there gossiping about the confession wall but [name] insisted on going here. i also got invited by minho so i have no choice. kyungsoo just has nothing to do so she followed us."

kazumi offers an explanation, a fake one to be specific, he's a really good actor you have to admit. ricky looks at the cherry notebook you held in your hand, it reads "for you ᰔ." he starts to become curious about the notebook.

'who will you give that to? is it someone from the basketball team?' ricky was about to ask but just sucked it in. it's not his business anyway, you might get uncomfortable.

"alright. see you!"

ricky goes back to his seat and relaxes after a tiring practice. he's still thinking about that notebook, 'did you come here to confess to someone? is it him? gosh, don't get your hopes up quanrui. it's just some.. silly notebook.' he looks back to the three of you, mainly you. he just brushes it off and told himself to focus on practice.

you're finally free from the.. conversations. you don't hate talking to ricky or gyuvin, it's just weird considering the whole reason you went to watch basketball practice is.. you know it. just when you guys were about to go to the seat kristine recommended before it gets taken by.. another admirer, minho stops you from doing so.

"sorry, i just need kazumi for a minute."

kazumi signals for you and kyungsoo to just go to the seats and he will follow later. you nod and leave him and minho be. minho grabs kazumi's hand and gently drags him to a private spot.

"how's the plan going?"

minho asks quietly.

"we haven't even started yet, people like you just keep on disturbing us."

kazumi scoffs, what an introvert (loner)..

"sorry, just let me know if anything happens okay? you can go now."

"also i saw ricky looking at the notebook. just so you know."

kazumi nods and quickly goes to the two.

"i'm back."

kazumi sits down on the spot that they reserved for him. he checks his phone to see any updates from kristine.

time passes by as you watch your surroundings to find the perfect moment to sneak up and hide the diary in ricky's bag. eunha distracting yoonmi, the basketball team focused on practice, others just hanging around the bleachers to find a not really crowded place to review or just have time to theirselves. this is perfect.

"i think i should go do it."

as soon as you stood up and try to walk away, kazumi grabs your hand and drags you back. he grabs your other hand. he's now holding both of your hands.. or wrists?

"don't do something stupid or mess up. i'm counting on you."

"err.. ok?"

he lets you go, kyungsoo just gives you two thumbs up and a pearly smile. you quickly get down and start your 'sneaky' mission. you try your best not to get attention. you sneak to the side of the bleachers, near ricky's bag. you stop for a second.. kazumi looks at you confused, why did you stop?

how exactly do you put it inside his bag without getting noticed? no wonder kazumi warned you before you went here.. you slowly walk closer to the bag, lift it a little, slowly put the notebook under, adjust the bag so that the only way you'll see the notebook is when you lift it up.

you look back at the two, kazumi stares at you giving you a 'seriously?' look while kyungsoo just gives you an ok sign. whatever. what happens happens. it's good enough.

you walk back to kazumi and kyungsoo. you remain standing in front of them, waiting for the signal to leave the place since you honestly can't stay here anymore.

"let's just go, it's boring here. i'll tell minho first."

you finally got out of that place. you're currently going to the school playground to meet with the others. when you three arrived you see haruki up the place with the slide because the signal is great there, rin and jiwon in the seesaw, kristine in the swings.

"you're back!!"

haruki rushes to get out and hug you, jiwon rapidly gets up and hugs kyungsoo, rinjusy gets out the seesaw and calmly walk up to her brother.

"kazu we.. need to talk."

rin drags kazumi to a private place in the playground where no one would hear their conversation.

"are you okay with this thing? after all you liked [name].. you sure you can handle everything?"

rin questions kazumi worried. kazumi just smiles and tries to reassure his younger sister.

"yeah, i don't see [name] that way anymore. i've already got my eyes on someone else.."

"you sure?"

kazumi nods, not wanting to be a bother to his sister.

"okay. i'll let you be. let's go back to the others and tell them we'll go home. or maybe we can hang out? we haven't went out that much recently.."

"yeah, let's go to that café with the cute bunnies. my treat."

practice is finally over. no admirers around, fresh air. he was about to get his bag to get changed. when he lifted it, he saw a notebook. a cherry notebook. with that same note. was that for.. him? no way.. he opens the notebook to read what's in it.

a diary about my.. love life? what i think about love?

to: ricky

from love: [name] ᰔ

he closes the notebook. planning to read it when he gets home.

today is finally valentines. you're kind of nervous and scared that you'll get rejected. but you don't really expect ricky to like you back anyway, there's other people better than you. don't get your hopes up.

you entered the classroom, seeing a lot of chocolates, flowers, and whatever gifts people give on valentines. ricky's desk catches your attention. it's full of love letters, diy gifts, crochet roses, candies, and other stuff. near his desk was a cherry notebook.. a cherry notebook? in his hand.

you swiftly look away and rush to your seat. still having the feeling that someone.. ricky is staring at you. perhaps you should try what your friend, rin, told you. to look at him.. longer than usual. you look over to ricky still reading the diary, he's currently somewhere around the middle. he stops reading and looks at you, he then smiles. not his usual smirk like you see him do with others. a genuine smile.

he signals you to look under your desk. you quickly do it without any hesitation, curious about what kind of stuff he put there. you see roses and a piece of paper. you get them and put them on your desk to see it clearly. the bouquet is full of paper roses and crochet roses surrounding the real rose in the middle. you see the same note that you put on the front of the diary, "for you ᰔ."

you open the paper that comes with it. it's a page from the diary, you can tell because of the cherries scattered around it. a piece of ripped paper on the empty space. it's the first page of the diary, except he put correction tape over the original names and reversed it. the actual paper is a page titled "what i think about love ─ flowers." the change of handwriting is seen at the bottom, it's ricky's.

after reading the whole thing, you look back at ricky, who's admiring you in pure adoration. you smile back at him and keep the roses and the paper before your strict teacher scolds you. you nod, his smile grows bigger. but your interaction gets interrupted by that exact strict teacher.

"that's how it all started."

ricky ended the story. your friends (not the anti-romantics and the broskis they know it all..) were curious about ricky's valentines and anniversary gift.

"happy valentines and.. anniversary."

ricky gives the diary to you. the diary is now full with your side and ricky's side. it's finally done. when you opened the book, the first page was the page that led him to give you multiple roses on that exact day. you smile at the precious memory. the one that started it all. you never had to worry about anything after all.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 8 months

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genuine question, where did the monthly romance novel thing come from? because you don’t seem to enjoy most of them 😭

okay, so, last February I had a hair-brained scheme to read, like, six romance novels in February so that I could "review" (strong word for my usual reading roundups but whatever) like a booktuber. to be clear I wasn't under the impression that anyone would really enjoy this but me and my beloved @dykerory, but I do a lot of things to entertain an extremely small audience and it's never stopped me before.

I was also genuinely interested in tackling a low-stakes project like that. I've never been a romance reader but I wanted to make sure I wasn't missing anything, which is why I initially planned to check out some big names and well-reviewed titles to get a sense of what the genre was all about. trust me, I wouldn't have put Red, White and Royal Blue on the list if I wasn't trying to do as thorough a study as possible in such an abridged amount of time.

anyway, I decided to get an early start and read the first book I'd picked out, a buzzy wlw romance that was getting a lot of positive buzz - Mistakes Were Made, by Meryl Wilsner, and boy howdy that mistake WAS made! the thing I realized immediately was that reading six romance novels back to back to back was definitely possible, since they're generally extremely short and not particularly rigorous, but in terms of content? oh, man, ingesting that much romance novel in a short period of time would make my brain stat dribbling out my nose.

so I amended the terms of my own completely non-binding contract so that I'd have to read twice as many romance novels over the course of an entire year, giving myself WAY more time to really explore what was big in the genre and try to really figure out the appeal.

and uuuh I really like it! they're quick and they're fun and they make for a really nice break in between the other kinds of books I rea. I like a lot of hefty nonfiction and dense-ass speculative fiction and moderately harrowing literary fiction. a romance novel makes for a nice little palate cleanse, like going for a little walk in the middle of a workday to break up the monotony. and even when I don't enjoy the story itself, the experience makes me better at recognizing and critiquing what I do and don't like in a romance novel and in a story generally. I genuinely do feel like I'm succeeding in my goal of learning a lot about the genre and its conventions, and understanding the appeal it holds for so many readers. I learn as much reading a romance novel as I do any other work of fiction.

also, I don't know how else to put this, but I'm a recreational hater and I loooooove poking the shit I don't like to figure out what makes it tick. I watched all 4.5 seasons of Gotham out of pure bile fascination, come on. this IS positive enrichment for me and I wouldn't do it otherwise.

#bookblr

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frozen10fanzine · 6 months

Text

Frozen Through the Years

Yearly Spotlight: 2023

Written by @toriofthetrees

This year marked...

Frozen’s 10th Anniversary

It was wild.

Starting off with a bang, in February Disney CEO Bob Iger announced that Frozen III was in development, later confirmed by Josh Gad. Idina Menzel and Jen Lee confirmed it in June, with Jen Lee going on to say that she would not be directing this installment of the franchise. However, she confirmed that she knew the person who was, she loved their story, and she trusted them completely.

Her enthusiasm did not go unnoticed.

On top of the 10th Anniversary for Frozen (November 27) this year also marked the 100th Anniversary for Disney Studios as a whole (October 16). To commemorate both, much of the activity peaked towards the last three month of the year.

The hashtag #Frozen10 was created to celebrate the anniversary.

On October 11, the Forces of Nature podcast was released over several installments. It was met with mixed reviews; some enjoyed it, some were more critical of it, and most agreed that while it was fun, it did not have the chops to be a major installment of the Frozen franchise.

On October 16, Disney released a short film called Once Upon a Studio to commemorate their centennial celebration. It aired on ABC and showed the hustle and bustle of Disney Studios as everyone (all of our favorite characters) prepared for the big celebration! Elsa, Anna, Kristoff (and technically Hans) were among the many classic Disney characters that appeared!

Two novels were released this year. The first book was the first installment in the Disney Legends trilogy entitled Fixer Upper, written by Jen Calonita. It tells the story of Kristoff’s childhood and life before he met Anna in Frozen. The second novel, an anthology of short stories, was created specifically to celebrate #Frozen10. It is called All is Found, and it brought together 10 authors to write 10 short stories to celebrate the anniversary. It was edited by Heather Knowles and Mari Mancusi, veterans in non-film Frozen lore.

November is the month things started reallly picking up. The merchandising train at Disney rolled out a lot of Frozen merch, including limited edition dolls of the sisters specifically for the 10th anniversary. On November 16, Bob Iger announced a fourth installment of the franchise, with multiple voice actors and creators tied to the project confirming it later that same day. This coincided with the Grand Opening ceremony of the World of Frozen at Disneyland Hongkong. Jen Lee joined in this celebration, with the gates to the park opening four days later.

She informed the world on November 22 that Frozen III and Frozen IV were one story across two installments.

The anniversary itself was on November 27. Disney released a press release on their official website commemorating all that had happened in Frozen history (kind of like what we are doing with these blog posts). And, of course, the merchandising train spun out once again to give us all new merch specifically for the #Frozen10 celebration.

Towards the end of the month, the Frozen song playlist was added to Spotify and Season 5 of Disney Speedstorm was released with Frozen characters.

The year ended with exciting activity from the fandom! The Youtuber GeekCritique worked closely with the Arendelle Archives to create a video detailing the history of Arendelle. The video was released on December 23 and managed to make headlines! The other major project was a fanzine celebrating #Frozen10. Inspired by All is Found, several fans came together to create Water Has Memory: A Frozen Decade. Within the zine are the fandom's Frozen memories, presented in the form of Elsa & Anna accessing them together through Ahtohallan.

Needless to say, this year was a major leap forward for all things Frozen. It gave so much to look forward to, and it was a sizable way to commemorate the 10th Anniversary of this beloved story.

Stay Tuned for More

👆🏻 Click above if you want to celebrate the 10th Anniversary of Frozen. The due date is April 12, 2024.

4 Days Left

We look forward to seeing your memories ❄️

#frozen #frozen10 #frozen 2 #water has memory #frohana #elsa #sven #kristoff #anna #olaf #frozen 10th anniversary #frozen fever #for you #ofa #olaf's frozen adventure #yearly spotlight

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cactusspatz · 6 months

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February recs

All 9-1-1 this month (except for a handful of others over at Pinboard)! A mix of gen and Buck/Eddie sorted from shortest to longest, because why not.

Solid Ground by @kingreywrites (gen)

"Hey Buckaroo," she says conversationally, as if any of this is a common occurrence. "I'm glad to see you awake, but please, whatever you do, don't move, okay?" (Or, Hen is here to catch Buck when he falls. Literally.)

Tightly written rope rescue, with a warm Hen-Buck relationship and Hen being a badass.

flutter in the dovecote by KiaraSayre (gen + Buck/Eddie)

Buck, Eddie, and Bobby quarantine from a bird flu exposure, and everything's fine. Totally fine. They're handling it just fine.

This felt SOOOO MUCH like an actual (bottle) episode and now I dearly wish it was.

things you don't say reach me somehow anyway by @sibylsleaves (Buck/Eddie)

He writes CHRISTOPHER at the top of the page in capital letters. Underneath it goes BUCK. Then PEPA, CARLA, CHIM, HEN and so on until he has fifteen names listed out. Fifteen people to show his appreciation for. He starts with the easiest name first. or, Eddie tells the family he chose how much they mean to him. All of them except one.

So sweet and affecting, with plenty of bonus Fire Fam feels while Eddie's therapy homework leads him to figure out the true shape of Buck in his life.

Winter Prayer by @cal-daisies-and-briars (gen)

When a work conflict prevents Athena from accompanying Bobby to Minnesota for the ten year anniversary of his family dying, Buck and May offer to go instead. Over the course of the trip, they all learn more about each other, and Bobby faces his grief.

Quiet and occasionally devastating, with a truckload of soft found family dynamics along for the roadtrip.

piece by piece, you filled the holes that were burned in me by polish_amber / @the-amber-raven (gen)

Buck didn’t see Hen and Chimney exchanging knowing smirks and he was still muffling his groans against the table when they went over to the kitchen to refill their coffee mugs and had a hushed conversation: “Should we tell him that Bobby also asks for feedback?” “Nah,” Hen replied mischievously. “I kind of want to hear what he’ll come up with on the spot.” 5 times Bobby has feedback for Buck during his annual review, and the one time Buck gets a perfect score and has some feedback of his own.

Such a fun use of that bit of canon, and great snapshots of their changing dynamic across the years.

I'll Scrawl it on Every Wall I See by @letmetellyouaboutmyfeels (Buck/Eddie)

When Eddie joins the 118, he and Buck don't exactly hit it off on the right foot. Or continue to walk on the right foot. In fact they kind of can't stand each other. Good thing they each have a beloved anonymous pen pal to share their daily woes with, someone completely unlike their insufferable coworker. Or, in which Buck and Eddie love each other before they know each other, and know each other before they love each other.

Delightful epistolary identity porn! Very very classic set up but the execution is *chefkiss* perfect.

Evan Buckley & The Coma-Verse of Madness by @cal-daisies-and-briars (Buck/Eddie)

After being struck by lightning on a call, Buck experiences a plethora of alternate realities showing him different directions his life could have taken. Fighting hard to get home, Buck learns what, or who, is important to him in every lifetime.

Great varation on 6x11 (the coma-dream episode), with gorgeous characterization. Emotionally devastating at times, but also devastatingly romantic.

#911 #9-1-1 #buck/eddie #buddie #fic rec #monthly recs

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cecilysass · 6 months

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Shine On (5/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 5: Lady of Sorrows

Our Lady of Sorrows Hospital Arlington, Virginia February 22, 2015

She’s preparing for a conference call that starts in twenty minutes when she hears the buzz of her phone. When she sees his name, she presses her eyes shut and ignores it.

She knows he’ll call back, and of course he does.

What do you want, Mulder? she texts him in frustration.

He responds right away, which surprises her. He has fewer reasons to use his phone than she does, so he is sometimes still a little baffled by texts. Which is one reason she sends them when she wants to put him off.

We need to talk. It’s important.

She shakes her head with huffy disbelief. Puts down her phone. Takes a drink of her coffee. Picks up her phone again.

I don’t think that’s a very good idea.

His response once again comes fast.

It’s important.

There’s still so much for her to do before this conference call. She wanted to go through yesterday’s results again and make more annotations. She wanted to crosscheck with the Amsterdam study. She doesn’t have time for this.

Fine. I’ll call you this afternoon.

There. Done. She should get back to work now, but instead she stares at the phone, waiting for his response.

Needs to be in person. Can you come to the house?

He has so much nerve. As much arrogance as ever, expecting her to be at his beck and call. She can feel her jaw clenching.

I’m busy, Mulder. I’m at work.

Sorry, it’s Sunday, didn’t realize.

Why do we need to talk?

The three dots appear, then disappear. He seems to be grappling with an answer.

After a moment, she adds: If this is about apologizing - not necessary.

The three dots pop up again on her screen.

Not an apology. Not about the other day. Something else. Important.

He adds a second message: Can I come to you? This afternoon?

She lets out a long, extended exhale, putting her head in her hands. After the conference call, she had been hoping to go home and enjoy a relaxing Sunday afternoon. Maybe go to yoga. Maybe take a bath. Seeing Mulder would almost certainly mean more emotional upheaval. The very opposite of the relaxation she needs.

But she’s always had such a hard time saying no to him.

Meet me at 3 at the cafe across from the hospital.

There’s a pause before he responds.

Okay. At 3.

Scully shoves the phone out of her sight, turning her attention back to her laptop. There’s still enough time to get ready. Her mind reviews her to-do list. Annotations, crosscheck with Amsterdam study, and then a quick overview of all of her notes.

But now her mind is distracted, wondering what Mulder wants.

Staring at the spreadsheet in front of her, full of all of the data she should be going through, she thinks a dangerous thought—one that will almost certainly come back to betray her.

Maybe he wants to give her a birthday present. Maybe he wants to do something nice for her birthday.

It’s so stupid of her. So adolescent. So ridiculous to even consider. It will only disappoint her later. Why would he do that? They’re not together anymore. And she knows he’s still struggling with their break-up, and she knows she should help give him space, so that he can recover and get better, get healthy. Even the idea is selfish.

She just can’t help but to imagine that kind of pleasant surprise. Like the old days. Maybe he has a present. A book, chosen just for her. A little bracelet, something exactly her tastes. A card he’s written tenderly for her.

The fantasy is irresistible because no one on earth has ever known her mind, known her heart, known her body like Mulder has. Being known to your core like that is a heady feeling, utterly addictive. She will never, ever stop wanting to experience it again.

She doubts she will. She can’t imagine any of the smarmy visiting surgeons who ask her out ever really knowing her like that.

Another idea pops into her mind, an even more foolish idea that reaches even further into her past.

Maybe he’s coming to her with a good old-fashioned slide show. With some bizarre monster to hunt, a spooky lead to track down, a haunted mystery to solve. Maybe he’s going to try to convince her to come with him on some wild goose chase.

That idea shouldn’t thrill her, it really shouldn’t, but it does. She longs for it in places she typically represses.

To be in some rental car with him, side by side, headed out to face grim small towns and sticky-table top diners and buzzing-sign motels. Her and him against the world. Partners against the darkness, ever and always.

She laughs softly, bitterly at herself. Jesus, she knows so much better than this.

These Mulders she’s longing for—the Mulder who remembers her birthday and painstakingly selects the perfect gift, the Mulder who gets caught up in the excitement of a case and coaxes his partner to be at his side—those versions of Mulder don’t exist any more.

Those versions of Mulder haven’t existed for a while, and that’s exactly why she had to leave.

She looks away from her laptop, massaging her forehead with a single fingertip, and takes another big drink of her coffee. Just take a break for five minutes, she tells herself. Get yourself together.

Her eyes drift back to her phone. She brushes past Mulder’s last message, and goes to scroll through the day’s headlines for the distraction.

Politics, entertainment, local news: she swipes through quickly. The phone offers so much convenience, but it brings something frenetic into her life, too. She sometimes misses the simple, tangible delight of having her hands on a paper Washington Post. Maybe she’ll pick one up today to read in the bathtub, if seeing Mulder doesn’t throw her too much for a loop.

There’s a national news story that catches her attention because of the words “Eighth grader” in the headline. This year, Scully’s attention is grabbed by anything mentioning eighth graders. Last year, it was seventh graders. Next year, it will be ninth graders, which makes her heart ache. High school. So old. He’s very possibly taller than her now.

This particular headline is rather upsetting: “Wyoming Eighth Grader Who Allegedly Shot Parents Still At Large.” Scully clicks on it and looks at the accompanying picture, a smiling school photo of a sweet-faced brown-haired boy who doesn’t look at all like a killer, which she knows from experience means exactly nothing. She decides not to read the story. Stories about killer eighth grade boys will upset her, and there’s no cause to upset herself.

The detour into the news is enough of a reset, though, for her to stop thinking about Mulder.

She turns back to the spreadsheet, her focus back. Only twelve minutes left now until her call. Scully lets herself shut the doors to everything but work.

***

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 22, 2015

“You ready?” Mulder says. He’s sitting in the driver’s seat, peering out the open passenger door with a too-bright smile.

Jackson climbs reluctantly in, reaching for his seatbelt. “I look stupid.”

“Not true.” Mulder says encouragingly. “You look like a kid who is being smart about not being recognized.”

News stories with Jackson’s photo have been making the rounds on the cable news stations, so Mulder has decided they can’t take risks. It seems like a long shot that someone would identify him on the roads of rural Virginia, but Jackson supposes it’s better safe than sorry.

So he’s wearing a worn old Yankees cap and a pair of dated oversized sunglasses. In Jackson’s opinion, the sunglasses make him more obvious, because no one under forty would ever wear sunglasses like that if they were not trying to disguise their identity.

The clothes he’d been wearing before were getting a little overripe, so Mulder has also made him borrow a pair of jeans and a black sweater. Like the sunglasses, they are really old—“vintage,” jokes Mulder—-and apparently from when he was a smaller size. But they’re still way too big for Jackson, who is skinnier and shorter. They hang off of him, even with the cuffs of the jeans rolled up and the sleeves of the sweater pushed back.

He looks like a kid playing dress up. Mulder is trying not to look at him. I hope he didn’t hear me think that. Jackson sighs a long, loud drawn-out sigh to let the man know he did.

They’ve now spent a full day together, him and Mulder, waiting for the DNA results to come back. It’s gone okay. Strange, but okay.

Yesterday morning, Mulder made him swab his mouth and drove the sample to drop off with some friend in the FBI. While Mulder was gone, Jackson snooped around, picking up every framed picture, opening drawers and cupboards. He didn’t find anything too interesting, except for a lot of evidence that Mulder didn’t clean up much.

By the time Mulder had returned, Jackson had decided to try to put all those piles of books back on his shelves, attempting to organize them by section. Mulder watched him in fascination for a moment and then joined in. It took them three hours to finish that project, mostly because Mulder kept going on tangents to tell him things about different books.

This book, which describes a fascinating incident with a wendigo, helped me solve a case once… I bought this paperback from a professional shaman in Brooklyn in 1989… This is a theoretical physics text about the practicalities of space travel Scully bought me as a joke.

Jackson didn’t hate it. Mulder was funny, mostly. And smart. He was definitely really smart. But he was intense, too, so eager to show Jackson things, so eager to impress him. Jackson’s shine wearied after a while.

That evening, they tried to watch TV, but turned it off when they saw a snippet of a news story with Jackson’s face. After that, they played chess. Mulder pointed out that telepaths had an unfair advantage in chess, but Jackson promised not to use it, and he really didn’t. Mulder won.

This morning, Mulder got the call about the DNA test, and while he didn’t say it in so many words, Jackson didn’t even need his shine to read the result from the man’s glowing face: it’s a match. You’re the daddy, like the talk shows say. Mulder obviously considers this great news.

Which means, of course, that it’s time to meet the other half of Jackson’s genetic equation.

“Okay,” Jackson mutters, clicking his seatbelt in place. “You said we’re going to a Starbucks or something?”

Mulder starts the engine. “We’re supposed to meet her at a cafe,” he says, maneuvering the car up the drive. “I’m not sure I like having you in public right now though, even master of disguise that you are. So we’ll convince her to talk elsewhere.”

“Hmm,” nods Jackson, the hat slipping over his face a little. He pushes it back. He feels Mulder stealing looks at him, and he wonders if Mulder has any idea how anxious he feels about meeting Scully. He makes a point of looking out the window, trying to make things seem more casual. “You know I could appear as someone else, right? If you want me to.”

“That might be useful,” Mulder says. “But I want Scully to see you as you are. Don’t you?”

Jackson doesn’t answer, keeping his gaze out the window. “On our way, are we going to drive by anywhere interesting? Like the White House or the Washington Monument?”

“Unfortunately, today we’re not leaving Virginia,” Mulder says. “But I promise, not too long from now I’ll take you to D.C. and show you the sights.”

Jackson lowers his stupid sunglasses and gives him a dubious look.

“What? I will.” Mulder protests. “Wait, hold on.” Mulder puts the car in park and hops out to open the gate. Jackson’s eyes follow him closely over the top of the sunglasses as he unlatches the gate and then slides back in.

“A lot of security,” comments Jackson. It seems like a pain in the ass to open and close the gate every time you leave. He wonders how often Mulder does leave. “This is because of those people you and Scully worked with?”

“More or less, yeah,” agrees Mulder, steering the car through the gate, then putting it in park again with a little jerk. He scrambles to hop out again, jogging back to close and latch the gate up.

At least, Jackson thinks, he didn’t grow up having to worry about all of this. He can’t imagine doing this all the time. Although, he thinks with a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach, maybe he should have. Maybe if he and his parents had done all this, they would still be alive.

Mulder slides back in the car again. “You all right?”

“Yeah,” Jackson manages.

Mulder nods without expression and drives the car onto the road. “Want to turn on some music?”

“That’s okay.”

“What kind of music do you like?”

Jackson smirks. “Do you really think you’ll have heard of it?”

“That depends,” Mulder says. “If you say you like Prince, or the Stones, or the Clash, then sure.”

“I like those,” Jackson says coolly. “I’m really into Bring Me the Horizon and Fall Out Boy?”

“Nope.”

Jackson gives him a withering “I told you so” look. He turns to face the front windshield, thinking about his mom singing along to When Doves Cry as she unloaded the dishwasher.

“What kind of music does Scully like?” he wonders.

“Oh,” Mulder sounds surprised. “Well, when she was young, she went through a rebellious phase. She liked punk, New Wave. All the music that would annoy her parents.”

“She didn’t get along with her parents?”

“No,” Mulder says. “She did, actually. She still does — her mom is still around. It was just teenage identity stuff. You know how it goes.”

Jackson nods seriously, making note of the existence of a living biological grandparent.

“Now, I think she still likes all that eighties music from when she was young,” Mulder says. “And sixties and seventies hits, too. She listens to that whenever she’s working out or doing something high energy. But she also likes classical music. She listens to a lot of classical music.”

“Is she, like, good at music? Does she sing or play an instrument?” Jackson and Louis had been talking about starting a band, and Jackson had been trying to learn guitar.

“No,” Mulder says. “Not really.” He smiles apologetically. “She’s really, really good at all kinds of other shit though, Jackson. Like being a scientist and a doctor and an F.B.I. agent.”

“She’s pretty, too,” comments Jackson.

“You can read my thoughts, so I assume you know how I feel about that,” Mulder says dryly. “I’m trying not to feel weird about it.”

“I don’t read every thought,” Jackson replies defensively. “I’ve been doing this my whole life, so I have a good idea when I am about to see something permanently damaging.”

Mulder laughs, but looks at him curiously. “What about at school, though? Teachers? Other kids? Girls—or guys—you might have a crush on? It must be tempting, huh?”

Jackson tries to think about how to explain it. “It’s not as tempting as you would think. It’s usually more trouble than it’s worth. You find out things you wish you didn’t. You see people think things about you that make you feel embarrassed or upset. You know information that’s hard to pretend you don’t know, and sometimes you mess up. I mostly don’t want to use my shine, if I can avoid it.”

“Your shine?”

“Oh yeah.” Jackson reddens. He’s only used the word with one other person before. “That’s what I call it. I call it ‘using my shine.’ I guess I mean like a light?”

“Okay,” Mulder says, nodding. “Interesting. Like the psychic boy in Stephen King? The Shining?”

Jackson frowns. “I haven’t seen it. Is there a shine in that?”

He doesn’t even know what I’m talking about. Jackson's mind tunes into Mulder’s thoughts like a radio. Don’t tell him. Too disturbing.

Instead, Mulder throws him a playful look. “Or like ‘Shine on, you crazy diamond.’ That’s an old Pink Floyd song.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard of that,” Jackson says with a little tolerant nod. “But … yeah. It can make me feel weird to use it for no good reason. I mean, I’m not saying I have never tried to see answers inside a teacher’s head or anything like that. But mostly I just want to feel normal talking to other people. You know?”

“You do seem to be able to control your shine considerably better than other people I’ve known with this kind of ability,” Mulder comments. “It’s the kind of thing I would have been really interested in, back when I worked on the X-files.”

“You’ve known other people with this ability?”

“Oh yeah,” Mulder says. “Several people. I even… well, I don’t want to get into it all now. But I can talk to you about this in detail whenever you want to.”

Jackson is quiet. “I wish when I was little I knew that there were other people with these abilities. It would have been easier. Made me feel better.”

“I’m sure,” Mulder says quietly. “I wish I could have told you.”

There is a heavy pause.

“I go to therapy for anxiety and depression,” Jackson tells him.

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “What about you?”

“No,” Mulder says. He gives him a strange look. “But maybe I should?”

“Yeah,” Jackson agrees, thinking of several details he’s observed. “Maybe you should.”

“You’re in a position to see, I guess,” Mulder muses. He's silent for a beat.

“I read an article about how sometimes a baby, when they’re still in their mom’s womb, can sort of soak up her stress and trauma and then grow up to have problems with anxiety,” Jackson says. “Do you think something like that might have happened to me?”

“You read an article like that?” Mulder asks, scowling. “Why?”

“That’s the kind of article kids with closed adoptions read,” Jackson says, lowering the sunglasses again, an edge of dark humor. “If you're a big nerd like me, anyway. You sort of wonder about everything.”

Mulder raises his eyebrows. Then he seems to consider Jackson’s question.

“I mean, it’s possible,” Mulder says heavily. “It’s possible something like that happened to you when you were in utero. It’s also possible you have anxiety and depression because, each year since 2000, the number of children and teens diagnosed with anxiety and depression has gone up, and you’re just one of those kids.”

Jackson makes an impressed face. “You just happened to know that?”

“Scully read an article about it,” Mulder says. “The kind of article birth mothers with closed adoptions of kids born after 2000 read. If they’re big nerds like Scully, anyway.” He pauses. “It’s also possible you have anxiety and depression for any other number of reasons that have nothing to do with any of that. Like having these abilities you have to hide and deal with, for one.”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson.

“Hey, do me a favor, and please don’t mention reading your ‘anxiety forming in utero’ article to Scully. Okay? Never.”

Jackson’s brow furrows. Not having met Scully, it’s an easy promise to make. “Yeah, okay.” He looks over at Mulder. “Is that something that would bother her?”

Mulder nods emphatically. “Let me put it like this. You know how some families like to have Scrabble competitions? Or fantasy football? In this family we like to compete in feeling guilty for how we’ve hurt people we love.”

“Oh good,” Jackson deadpans. “I’ve been training for that.”

Mulder chuckles bitterly. “You really don’t understand your competition.”

Jackson hadn't even been aware his shine was active, but suddenly he's overcome: a painful onslaught of incoming information. There’s a rapid-fire series of images from Mulder’s mind, so fast Jackson feels his head thump back dramatically against the headrest, closing his eyes. He gasps loud enough that Mulder looks over.

“Whoa, whoa. You okay there?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says breathily, opening his eyes. “I just…” He feels like he got kicked.

“Feeling dizzy?”

“I’ll be okay.”

“Did you drink water today?”

“It wasn’t dehydration," Jackson murmurs.

Mulder’s face changes. Jackson sees that he has realized.

“Oh,” he says. "It was me, wasn't it?" A pause. “God, Jackson, I’m sorry about that.”

“Not really your fault.”

“You… what did you see?”

Jackson scrunches up his eyes to try to remember each detail. “I didn’t understand much of it,” he says. “There was a little girl, brown braids, bright light?” He looks over at Mulder, and Mulder nods tightly. “All these different people crying because they’ve lost someone, mostly people I don’t know. But Scully lots of times. Scully crying again and again and again.” Mulder presses his lips together tightly. “A baby crying in a crib. Me?”

“Yep,” Mulder says. “You.”

“You feel guilty about me?”

“Yep,” Mulder says. He doesn’t add any more detail.

Jackson takes that information in. He’s tempted to use his shine again, to add some context and see why, exactly, but again it seems a little too much for him to cope with. Better to take all of this information in in tiny bite-sized chunks.

He thinks of something else he’s kind of been wanting to ask instead.

“Am I the only kid you guys ever had? Or did you have others?”

“Just you,” Mulder says, his voice melancholy now. “You weren’t supposed to be possible. She wasn’t supposed to be able to get pregnant at all. We thought you were a miracle.”

Jackson chews on that thought, staring out the window at the passing late winter Virginia landscape.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp #my fic #shine on

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